‘Pretty well, Mrs Proudie.’
‘And then, too, your wife had some little fortune, had she not? We cannot all fall on our feet like that; can we, Mr White?’ and Mrs Proudie in her playful way appealed to the chaplain.
Mrs Proudie was an imperious woman; but then so also was Lady Lufton; and it may therefore be said that Mr Robarts ought to have been accustomed to feminine domination; but as he sat there munching his toast he could not but make a comparison between the two. Lady Lufton in her little attempts sometimes angered him; but he certainly thought, comparing the lay lady and the clerical together, that the rule of the former was the lighter and the pleasanter. But then Lady Lufton had given him a living and a wife, and Mrs Proudie had given him nothing.
Immediately after breakfast Mr Robarts escaped to the Dragon of Wantly, partly because he had had enough of the matutinal Mrs Proudie, and partly also in order that he might hurry his friends there. He was already becoming fidgety about the time, as Harold Smith had been on the preceding evening, and he did not give Mrs Smith credit for much punctuality. When he arrived at the inn he asked if they had done breakfast, and was immediately told that not one of them was yet down. It was already half-past eight, and they ought to be now under weigh on the road.
He immediately went to Mr Sowerby’s room, and found that gentleman shaving himself. ‘Don’t be a bit uneasy,’ said Mr Sowerby. ‘You and Smith shall have my phaeton, and those horses will take you there in an hour. Not, however, but what we shall all be in time. We’ll send round to the whole party and ferret them out.’ And then Mr Sowerby having evoked manifold aid with various peals of the bell sent messengers, male and female, flying to all the different rooms.
‘I think I’ll hire a gig and go over at once,’ said Mark. ‘It would not do for me to be late, you know.’
‘It won’t do for any of us to be late; and it’s all nonsense about hiring a gig. It would be just throwing a sovereign away, and we should pass you on the road. Go down and see that the tea is made, and all that; and make them have the bill ready; and, Robarts, you may pay it too, if you like it. But I believe we may as well leave that to Baron Borneo – eh?’
And then Mark did go down and make the tea, and he did order the bill; and then he walked about the room, looking at his watch, and nervously waiting for the footsteps of his friends. And as he was so employed, he bethought himself whether it was fit that he should be so doing on a Sunday morning; whether it was good that he should be waiting there, in painful anxiety, to gallop over a dozen miles in order that he might not be too late with his sermon; whether his own snug room at home, with Fanny opposite to him, and his bairns crawling on the floor, with his own preparations for his own quiet service, and the warm pressure of Lady Lufton’s hand when that service should be over, was not better than all this.
He could not afford not to know Harold Smith, and Mr Sowerby, and the Duke of Omnium, he had said to himself. He had to look to rise in the world, as other men did. But what pleasure had come to him as yet from these intimacies? How much had he hitherto done towards his rising? To speak the truth he was not over well pleased with himself, as he made Mrs Harold Smith’s tea and ordered Mr Sowerby’s mutton chops on that Sunday morning.
At a little after nine they all assembled; but even then he could not make the ladies understand that there was any cause for hurry; at least Mrs Smith, who was the leader of the party, would not understand it. When Mark again talked of hiring a gig, Miss Dunstable indeed said that she would join him; and seemed to be so far earnest in the matter that Mr Sowerby hurried through his second egg in order to prevent such a catastrophe. And then Mark absolutely did order the gig; whereupon Mrs Smith remarked that in such case she need not hurry herself; but the waiter brought up word that all the horses of the hotel were out, excepting one pair neither of which could go in single harness. Indeed, half of their stable establishment was already secured by Mr Sowerby’s own party.
‘Then let me have the pair,’ said Mark, almost frantic with delay.
‘Nonsense, Robarts; we are ready now. He won’t want them, James. Come, Supplehouse, have you done?’
‘Then I am to hurry myself, am I?’ said Mrs Harold Smith. ‘What changeable creatures you men are! May I be allowed half a cup more tea, Mr Robarts?’
Mark, who was now really angry, turned away to the window. There was no charity in these people, he said to himself. They knew the nature of his distress, and yet they only laughed at him. He did not, perhaps, reflect that he had assisted in the joke against Harold Smith on the previous evening.
‘James,’ said he, turning to the waiter, ‘let me have that pair of horses immediately, if you please.’
‘Yes, sir; round in fifteen minutes, sir: only Ned, sir, the postboy, sir; I fear he’s at his breakfast, sir; but we’ll have him here in less than no time, sir!’
But before Ned and the pair were there, Mrs Smith had absolutely got her bonnet on, and at ten they started. Mark did share the phaeton with Harold Smith, but the phaeton did not go any faster than the other carriages. They led the way, indeed, but that was all; and when the vicar’s watch told him that it was eleven, they were still a mile from Chaldicotes’ gate, although the horses were in a lather of steam; and they had only just entered the village when the church bells ceased to be heard.
‘Come, you are in time, after all,’ said Harold Smith. ‘Better time than I was last night.’ Robarts could not explain to him that the entry of a clergyman into church, of a clergyman who is going to assist in the service, should not be made at the last minute, that it should be staid and decorous, and not done in scrambling haste, with running feet and scant breath.
‘I suppose we’ll stop here, sir,’ said the postilion, as he pulled up his horses short at the church-door, in the midst of the people who were congregated together ready for the service. But Mark had not anticipated being so late, and said at first that it was necessary that he should go on to the house; then, when the horses had again begun to move, he remembered that he could send for his gown, and as he got out of the carriage he gave his orders accordingly. And now the other two carriages were there, and so there was a noise and confusion at the door – very unseemly, as Mark felt it; and the gentlemen spoke in loud voices, and Mrs Harold Smith declared that she had no prayer-book, and was much too tired to go in at present; – she would go home and rest herself, she said. And two other ladies of the party did so also, leaving Miss Dunstable to go alone; – for which, however, she did not care one button. And then one of the party, who had a nasty habit of swearing, cursed at something as he walked in close to Mark’s elbow; and so they made their way up the church as the Absolution was being read, and Mark Robarts felt thoroughly ashamed of himself. If his rising in the world brought him in contact with such things as these, would it not be better for him that he should do without rising?
His sermon went off without any special notice. Mrs Harold Smith was not there, much to his satisfaction; and the others who were did not seem to pay any special attention to it. The subject had lost its novelty, except with the ordinary church congregation, the farmers and labourers of the parish; and the ‘quality’ in the squire’s great pew were content to show their sympathy by a moderate subscription. Miss Dunstable, however, gave a ten-pound note, which swelled up the sum total to a respectable amount – for such a place as Chaldicotes.
‘And now I hope I may never hear another word about New Guinea,’ said Mr Sowerby, as they all clustered round the drawing-room fire after church. ‘That subject may be regarded as having been killed and buried; eh, Harold?’
‘Certainly murdered last night,’ said Mrs Harold, ‘by that awful woman, Mrs Proudie.’
‘I wonder you did not make a dash at her and pull her out of the arm-chair,’ said Miss Dunstable. T was expecting it, and thought that I should come to grief in the scrimmage.’
‘I never knew a lady do such a brazen-faced thing before,’ said Miss Kerrigy, a travelling friend of Miss Duns
table’s.
‘Nor I – never; in a public place, too,’ said Dr Easyman, a medical gentleman, who also often accompanied her.
‘As for brass,’ said Mr Supplehouse, ‘she would never stop at anything for want of that. It is well that she has enough, for the poor bishop is but badly provided.’
‘I hardly heard what it was she did say,’ said Harold Smith; ‘so I could not answer her, you know. Something about Sundays, I believe.’
‘She hoped you would not put the South Sea islanders up to Sabbath travelling,’ said Mr Sowerby.
‘And specially begged that you would establish Lord’s-day schools,’ said Mrs Smith; and then they all went to work and picked Mrs Proudie to pieces, from the top ribbon of her cap down to the sole of her slipper.
‘And then she expects the poor parsons to fall in love with her daughters. That’s the hardest thing of all,’ said Miss Dunstable.
But, on the whole, when our vicar went to bed he did not feel that he had spent a profitable Sunday.
CHAPTER 8
Gatherum Castle
ON the Tuesday morning Mark did receive his wife’s letter and the ten-pound note,1 whereby a strong proof was given of the honesty of the post-office people in Barsetshire. That letter, written as it had been in a hurry, while Robin postboy was drinking a single mug of beer, – well, what of it if it was half filled a second time? – was nevertheless eloquent of his wife’s love and of her great triumph.
‘I have only half a moment to send you the money,’ she said, ‘for the postman is here waiting. When I see you I’ll explain why I am so hurried. Let me know that you get it safe. It is all right now, and Lady Lufton was here not a minute ago. She did not quite like it; about Gatherum Castle I mean; but you’ll hear nothing about it. Only remember that you must dine at Framley Court on Wednesday week. I have promised for you. You will: won’t you, dearest? I shall come and fetch you away if you attempt to stay longer than you have said. But I’m sure you won’t. God bless you, my own one! Mr Jones gave us the same sermon he preached the second Sunday after Easter. Twice in the same year is too often. God bless you! The children are quite well. Mark sends a big kiss. – Your own F.’
Robarts, as he read this letter and crumpled the note up into his pocket, felt that it was much more satisfactory than he deserved. He knew that there must have been a fight, and that his wife, fighting loyally on his behalf, had got the best of it; and he knew also that her victory had not been owing to the goodness of her cause. He frequently declared to himself that he would not be afraid of Lady Lufton; but nevertheless these tidings that no reproaches were to be made to him afforded him great relief.
On the following Friday they all went to the duke’s, and found that the bishop and Mrs Proudie were there before them; as were also sundry other people, mostly of some note, either in the estimation of the world at large or of that of West Barsetshire. Lord Boanerges was there, an old man who would have his own way in everything, and who was regarded by all men – apparently even by the duke himself – as an intellectual king, by no means of the constitutional kind, – as an intellectual emperor rather, who took upon himself to rule all questions of mind without the assistance of any ministers whatever. And Baron Brawl was of the party, one of her Majesty’s puisne judges, as jovial a guest as ever entered a country house; but given to be rather sharp withal in his jovialities. And there was Mr Green Walker, a young but rising man, the same who lectured not long since on a popular subject to his constituents at the Crewe Junction. Mr Green Walker was a nephew of the Marchioness of Hartletop, and the Marchioness of Hartletop was a friend of the Duke of Omnium’s. Mr Mark Robarts was certainly elated when he ascertained who composed the company of which he had been so earnestly pressed to make a portion. Would it have been wise in him to forgo this on account of the prejudices of Lady Lufton?
As the guests were so many and so great, the huge front portals of Gatherum Castle were thrown open, and the vast hall, adorned with trophies – with marble busts from Italy and armour from Wardour Street,2 – was thronged with gentlemen and ladies, and gave forth unwonted echoes to many a footstep. His grace himself, when Mark arrived there with Sowerby and Miss Dunstable – for in this instance Miss Dunstable did travel in the phaeton while Mark occupied a seat in the dicky – his grace himself was at this moment in the drawing-room, and nothing could exceed his urbanity.
‘Oh Miss Dunstable,’ he said, taking that lady by the hand, and leading her up to the fire, ‘now I feel for the first time that Gatherum Castle has not been built for nothing.’
‘Nobody ever supposed it was, your grace,’ said Miss Dunstable. ‘I am sure the architect did not think so when his bill was paid.’ And Miss Dunstable put her toes up on the fender to warm them with as much self-possession as though her father had been a duke also, instead of a quack doctor.
‘We have given the strictest orders about the parrot,’ said the duke–
‘Ah! but I have not brought him after all,’ said Miss Dunstable.
‘And I have had an aviary built on purpose, – just such as parrots are used to in their own country. Well, Miss Dunstable, I do call that unkind. Is it too late to send for him?’
‘He and Dr Easyman are travelling together. The truth was, I could not rob the doctor of his companion.’
‘Why? I have had another aviary built for him. I declare, Miss Dunstable, the honour you are doing me is shorn of half its glory. But the poodle – I still trust in the poodle.’
‘And your grace’s trust shall not in that respect be in vain. Where is he, I wonder?’ And Miss Dunstable looked round as though she expected that somebody would certainly have brought her dog in after her. ‘I declare I must go and look for him, – only think if they were to put him among your grace’s dogs, – how his morals would be destroyed!’
‘Miss Dunstable, is that intended to be personal?’ But the lady had turned away from the fire, and the duke was able to welcome his other guests.
This he did with much courtesy. ‘Sowerby,’ he said, ‘I am glad to find that you have survived the lecture. I can assure you I had fears for you.’
‘I was brought back to life after considerable delay by the administration of tonics at the Dragon of Wantly. Will your grace allow me to present to you Mr Robarts, who on that occasion was not so fortunate. It was found necessary to carry him off to the palace, where he was obliged to undergo very vigorous treatment.’
And then the duke shook hands with Mr Robarts, assuring him that he was most happy to make his acquaintance. He had often heard of him since he came into the county; and then he asked after Lord Lufton, regretting that he had been unable to induce his lordship to come to Gatherum Castle.
‘But you had a diversion at the lecture, I am told,’ continued the duke. ‘There was a second performer, was there not, who almost eclipsed poor Harold Smith?’ And then Mr Sowerby gave an amusing sketch of the little Proudie episode.
‘It has, of course, ruined your brother-in-law for ever as a lecturer,’ said the duke, laughing.
‘If so we shall feel ourselves under the deepest obligations to Mrs Proudie,’ said Mr Sowerby. And then Harold Smith himself came up, and received the duke’s sincere and hearty congratulations on the success of his enterprise at Barchester.
Mark Robarts had now turned away, and his attention was suddenly arrested by the loud voice of Miss Dunstable who had stumbled across some very dear friends in her passage through the rooms, and who by no means hid from the public her delight upon the occasion.
‘Well – well – well!’ she exclaimed, and then she seized upon a very quiet-looking, well-dressed, attractive young woman who was walking towards her, in company with a gentleman. The gentleman and lady, as it turned out, were husband and wife. ‘Well – well – well! I hardly hoped for this.’ And then she took hold of the lady and kissed her enthusiastically, and after that grasped both the gentleman’s hands, shaking them stoutly.
‘And what a deal I shall have to say to y
ou!’ she went on. ‘You’ll upset all my other plans. But, Mary my dear, how long are you going to stay here? I go – let me see – I forget when, but it’s all put down in a book upstairs. But the next stage is at Mrs Proudie’s. I shan’t meet you there, I suppose. And now, Frank, how’s the governor?’
The gentleman called Frank declared that the governor was all right – ‘mad about the hounds, of course, you know.’
‘Well, my dear, that’s better than the hounds being mad about him, like the poor gentleman they’ve put into a statue.3 But talking of hounds, Frank, how badly they manage their foxes at Chaldicotes! I was out hunting all one day –’
‘You out hunting!’ said the lady called Mary.
‘And why shouldn’t I go out hunting? I’ll tell you what, Mrs Proudie was out hunting, too. But they didn’t catch a single fox; and, if you must have the truth, it seemed to me to be rather slow.’
‘You were in the wrong division of the county,’ said the gentleman called Frank.
‘Of course I was. When I really want to practise hunting I’ll go to Greshamsbury; not a doubt about that.’
‘Or to Boxall Hill,’ said the lady; ‘you’ll find quite as much zeal there as at Greshamsbury.’
‘And more discretion, you should add,’ said the gentleman.
‘Ha! ha! ha!’ laughed Miss Dunstable; ‘your discretion indeed! But you have not told me a word about Lady Arabella.’
‘My mother is quite well,’ said the gentleman.
‘And the doctor? By-the-by, my dear, I’ve had such a letter from the doctor; only two days ago. I’ll show it you upstairs tomorrow. But mind, it must be a positive secret. If he goes on in this way he’ll get himself into the Tower, or Coventry, or a blue-book, or some dreadful place.’
‘Why; what has he said?’
‘Never you mind, Master Frank: I don’t mean to show you the letter, you may be sure of that. But if your wife will swear three times on a poker and tongs that she won’t reveal, I’ll show it to her. And so you’re quite settled at Boxall Hill, are you?’
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